


some days i'm tired of trying

by jennycaakes



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Friendship, Stolen Moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 16:49:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9557978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennycaakes/pseuds/jennycaakes
Summary: Gale finds Madge tucked behind the Justice Hall and the two of them share a moment.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is a fic giveaway for pancakehuckleberry on tumblr!! congrats darling, I hope you like it!!

It doesn’t matter that it’s the middle of winter and there’s snow covering every inch of the ground. And it doesn’t matter that the air is thick and cold. And it doesn’t matter that Gale’s back is still sore, throbbing with every step he takes as a result of his whipping. He just needs to get out of his house. 

Hazelle worries as he heads for the door and even Rory casts a worrisome glance is Gale’s direction, but with one look he silences both of their protests. Their home in the Seam is just too  _ small _ . Not being able to work, not being able to go in the woods, having his family fuss over him every second of the day, it makes this place unbearable sometimes. 

“I’ll be back,” he tells them. Hazelle gnaws on her bottom lip. “I’ll be careful,” Gale adds. 

He knows it’s dangerous to be walking around the district at this hour, or at all really with Thread out here now, but he can’t breathe. He just needs some air, no matter how cold. He just needs some quiet. 

Out of habit, his footsteps carry him to the fence. It hums with electricity now and makes everything inside of him ache. He thinks of Katniss scaling the tree and jumping to the other side. He thinks of all the animals on the other side he could use to feed his family. He thinks of the freedom that the woods has always granted him in a district that gives him so little, and he aches. He’s been aching for days. Weeks. He’s worried it will turn into months of suffering. Years.

Not that he hasn’t been suffering before. But it’s already so much worse. 

After a few minutes of just staring at the other side, wishing and hoping and praying for a chance to be free again, Gale stalks away. He needs to find some place new where he can sit and think. He needs to find a place that gives him the illusion of freedom. 

Gale walks the boundary of the district, following the fence, slowly making his way into town. He hears the sounds of people in their homes getting ready for dinner and listens to the faint hum of their televisions. He wonders what it would be like to have central heating instead of having to cram himself in a bed with his two younger brothers to share body heat, knowing his sister and mother are in the next room doing the same. 

After some twists and turns Gale finds himself behind the Justice Building. Seeing as it’s behind the building and where no camera crew would ever go, it tends to be a little overgrown. Old vines, dead with winter, are crawling up the back. It’s a secluded area and with the giant building behind him blocking out the noise of the rest of the district, it’s even quiet. This could work.

Only--there’s someone here. 

He shifts on his feet and the snow crunches beneath his boots. The girl huddled with her back against the wall leaps to her feet at once, a blur of gold, and it takes Gale a moment to place her. 

With red stained cheeks and a pink nose, as well as a wool hat pulled onto her head, Madge Undersee is a little far from home at this hour. When she realizes that it’s just Gale and not a peacekeeper, she crosses her arms over her chest. 

Snob.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

Gale scoffs. “What are  _ you _ doing here?” he asks in response.

Madge tips her nose toward the air. “I believe I asked first,” she says. 

“I believe I don’t care,” Gale tosses back. 

They’re at a standstill. Part of him hopes that she’ll continue on with their petty argument, mostly because Gale’s dying for some sort of interaction where someone treats him like  _ Gale  _ rather than the heartbroken, beaten rebel most people are these days. Instead, she rolls her eyes and settles back down with her back against the wall. Gale remains standing. 

He doesn’t think she’s going to speak again when Madge finally says, “I come here when I want to be alone.”

“Don’t you have a bedroom for that?” he asks. He doesn’t mean for it to sound so rude. But by the way she tightens her arms over her chest, she must think it comes out that way. 

“No.”

Gale leans against the wall, still standing. “You don’t have a bedroom?” he asks.

“Not entirely.” He waits for an elaboration. “Don’t be daft. My house is bugged. And it’s full of Capitol citizens. And I don’t have a lock.”

The way she says these facts, breezily, like they should be common knowledge, is startling. 

“Your house is bugged?” Gale asks.

Madge doesn’t answer. Instead she says, “Your turn.”

“My family’s been treating me like I’m useless,” he tells her. 

Madge tips her head up to look at him and--is that a smirk? “You did kind of almost get whipped to death,” she reminds him. Again, oh so casually. God, Gale’s missed this. Someone to have a real conversation with. Even if it  _ is _ Madge Undersee. “They’re allowed to worry.”

“They’re suffocating me.” Besides, Mrs. Everdeen gave him the all clear like a week ago. He’s perfectly fine. Maybe he shouldn’t be swinging a pickaxe or anything but the mines are closed anyway. “And it’s not like I can go to the woods.” 

“Like you’d be able to shimmy under the fence in your condition anyway,” she shoots back.

It makes Gale laugh. That must surprise her (like it’s surprised him) because her eyebrows shoot to her forehead. “Sorry,” Gale says, slowly sinking to the ground. “Not the response I expected.” 

“I thought you were trying to escape the pity party?” she asks. “Or did I read that wrong, and you want balloons?”

Gale shakes his head at her, but he’s still smiling. “Balloons would be nice.” Finally a smile takes Madge’s face too. “Do you care if I sit?” he asks.

“You sat anyway, so it doesn’t appear to matter if I care or not.” Gale laughs again and Madge is still smiling. “You’re the one who hates me,” Madge carries on. “I figured you’d want to go somewhere else anyway.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Gale says. “Hate you?”

“Did I misspeak?”

“Dislike, maybe. But hate’s a strong word.” Hate is saved for people like Thread. Or Snow. Or anyone from the Capitol at all. But Madge Undersee didn’t exactly make the cut. “Can you blame me?” he asks. “You did kind of grow up with wealth and privilege while I was raised in the Seam.” 

“Which I’m very aware of,” Madge says. “And am unable to control whatsoever.” She looks back to him. “I’m seventeen, Gale.”

He looks away from her. “Yeah.” 

“I did what I could when I bought fruit from you and Katniss.” She nudges him with her elbow. “And I’m not stupid enough to believe you charged everyone else three gold coins.” 

Gale’s never believed that Madge is stupid, if he were being honest. She’s always been sharp minded, a valid partner when it comes to debating. He also likes watching her get riled up. So to say that she’s stupid is untrue. 

“Besides,” Madge carries on, “I did kind of save your life. So I think I’ve made up for it.”

Gale snorts. “Oh really, Princess? You saved my life?” 

“Mm-hm.” 

“Do go on.”

“With the morphling.”

The air stills between them. 

Gale knew that they’d used morphling on him after his whipping. He remembers the pain vividly, the desperation for it all to end. He remembers wanting to give up, wanting to give in. He remembers wanting death to claim him just so it could stop. But then it was gone. He remembers it being leached from him, first slowly and then all at once. He remembers the soft light that filled him instead. He remembers the desire to fight, to live. 

“That wasn’t meant to be a brag,” Madge says softly, her voice laced with noticeable regret. “I--sorry. I’m actually really happy that you’re okay.” 

Madge Undersee brought the morphling. 

Madge Undersee saved his life. 

“I mean I don’t think we’d be able to overthrow the Capitol without Gale Hawthorne on our side,” Madge continues on, clearly rambling now. 

If that’s meant to help Gale respond then she’s failed. Because now Gale’s thinking about how Madge Undersee just said  _ overthrow the Capitol _ and  _ we _ as in  _ she wants to help overthrow the Capitol _ . 

“I can’t do much,” Madge carries on, “but I do what I can, you know? And okay. I’m--I’m done talking now.” 

The silence between the two of them might have once felt miles wide. Like it could stretch on forever. But this silence, it feels close. It feels like a breath of air that’s wound itself around the two of them and squeezed them side by side. 

For some reason, all Gale can think to say is, “Katniss used to say you were quiet.”

The smile that crosses Madge’s face looks like one of relief. “She’s not very talkative herself,” she murmurs, “now is she?” 

“No, I guess not.” The silence returns. For a long time, Gale had an image of Madge Undersee in his brain that she doesn’t quite seem to actually meet. She was pristine and perfect and untouchable. She was a snob. She was quiet. 

It turns out she likes to ramble. It turns out she likes to spend her alone time behind the Justice Building. It turns out that she… cares. About the politics. About Gale. 

“I didn’t know it was you,” Gale finally says. “That brought the morphling.” He shakes his head, knowing that if he turns his head to look at her he’ll never be able to get the words out. “I knew it was expensive medicine and hard to get, but I just assumed Katniss always had those things. You know? I didn’t realize…” 

Madge seems to shrink. “I didn’t mean to turn it into another one of those moments,” she whispers. 

“One of those moments?”

“One of those moments where you flip it back and get angry about money and decide that maybe you really do hate me.” 

Gale tips his head back and looks up at the sky. It’s littered with stars, bright and so endlessly far away. He wonders if that’s why Madge comes out here, because she can see the stars. She seems like someone who would like to see the stars. And everyone knows you can’t see them in town. 

“I’m not angry,” Gale says.

Madge waits a moment. “And you don’t owe me anything,” she adds.

“Sorry?”

Madge tips her head back too and Gale smiles. “Everyone from the Seam is obsessed with repaying each other,” she says. “And--before you snap at me, I understand it, okay. When you don’t have any money but you look out for each other--I just, I understand it. But you don’t owe me for that.” 

Part of Gale wants to argue with that. He knows she’s right, though. That people from the Seam are obsessed with debts. But this moment, this entire interaction, it doesn’t feel like one where he should be arguing. 

Maybe he’s just tired. 

“Aren’t you cold?” he asks. 

Madge turns to look at him, and Gale looks back. In the moonlight, she’s beautiful. Madge Undersee has always been beautiful. For a while, maybe up until this evening, it felt like the sort of beauty he’d never understand. But looking at her now, this close, with soft brown freckles across her pale skin, the moonlight making her golden hair seem silver, he has to accept that he’s certainly been wrong about Madge Undersee. Her beauty is gentle, like her. 

“Better to be cold than miserable,” she answers. “At least out here I can breathe. And think.”

“And talk,” Gale says. 

They’re still looking at one another. “I’m surprised we haven’t started shouting at one another yet.”

Gale smiles, and Madge’s eyes grow wide in response. “Would you believe me if I said that this has actually been incredibly refreshing?” he asks. Madge tips her head to the side in disbelief, and Gale’s smile grows. “Because it’s true,” he adds. “You’re the first person in weeks to talk to me like a person.”

“I like talking to you,” Madge says. “I think you’re a respectable person. You have good values. And you’re a hard worker. And I wish we could talk like this more.” 

Gale’s smile slips a little. Because part of him wishes for that too. But part of him knows it would never work. This can only be  _ this _ in the quiet moments of the night, hidden from the rest of the district. 

“Do you want me to walk you back home?” Gale asks.

“A gentleman,” Madge says, almost in shock, and Gale’s surprised at the laugh that bubbles out of him. “You know,” she says, “that would be nice.”

Gale stands and offers his hand to Madge, and slowly they make their way from behind the Justice Building back to the main part of the district. The cold is starting to really settle into his bones now, but something about his night has left him feeling warm. 

They don’t speak on their walk, but by the time the reach the Undersee mansion, Gale turns to her. “Thank you,” he says.

For the conversation. For the hope. For saving his life. 

Madge smiles, and Gale’s frustrated with how soft it makes him feel. She tips her head at him in response and hurries inside without looking back. 

They never speak of that night again. 


End file.
